


Black Out

by orphan_account



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Alien Invasion, Alien Mythology/Religion, Alternate Universe, Delusions, Friends to Lovers, Hallucinations, Horror, M/M, Mystery, No Smut, Paranoia, Science Fiction, Shipwide Emergency, Slow Burn, Spatial Anomaly, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-07 08:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19206049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Movie night goes completely wrong when Enterprise enters a mysterious spatial anomaly that shuts off most of the power. It's up to the crew to get Enterprise to safety- but with an unknown danger at every turn and everyone's worst fears coming to life... can it be done? Or will Enterprise too share the fate many ships suffered before it?~~PLEASE READ THIS NOTE: I am officially discontinuing this story. I'm planning on starting somewhat from scratch with it. I'll still carry over some of the original content, but as far as this story goes, it's done.





	1. Chapter 1

Malcolm hadn't noticed it right away. Perhaps he  _didn't_  want to notice at the time. Slowly, it had come over him, like a fog stealing silently over a lake. He eventually noticed it, acknowledged it's existence. And he buried it. But whenever  _he_  spoke to Malcolm- the crack of a joke, a few words of reassurance, a stimulating argument... whenever  _he_  touched Malcolm- a gentle pat on the shoulder, a bump of their hands- whenever it happened, Malcolm was forced to acknowledge what he felt.

"Hey Mal!"

Malcolm whipped his head about as he walked down the corridor, bumping into Ensign Cutler in the process. "Oof!" He stepped back, quickly concealing his embarrassment and steadying both himself and Cutler. "My apologies, Ensign. Carry on." Ensign Cutler nodded in reply, her eyebrow raising imperceptably in puzzlement. As she left to finish her rounds for the day, Malcolm turned to face Trip. "Commander! It's good to see you."

Trip's lips quirked upward in a smile. "Nice to see ya too, Mal! You're lookin' great t'day. But I think ya missed a spot shavin' riiight... there." He playfully pointed to a spot on Malcolm's cheek.

"Ha ha, very funny, sir. Headed to the bridge too?" Malcolm smiled back as he asked, his heart swimming furiously with emotion.

"Yep! Gotta deliver the Cap'n a report," Trip explained.

They walked down the corridor, talking like they normally did- about the ship, the crew, their work... But Malcolm didn't feel normal. It was becoming clear to him that he had fallen for Trip. He had fallen for him hard. And Malcolm wasn't sure what to do about it. He couldn't ignore his feelings, not forever. But he didn't know how to deal with them either.

For one thing, there were the Starfleet Regulations to consider. If Malcolm grew too attached to Trip, then any future missions they had together could be compromised. Or Starfleet might force one of them to transfer, should they find out about Malcolm's affections for Trip. And there was no way in hell Malcolm was going to let that happen.

Then there was Trip himself to consider. The two of them were close, that was definitely certain, but Malcolm didn't even know if Trip had any feelings for him beyond friendship. Malcolm didn't want to risk losing Trip as a friend. These feelings had to remain more than just a secret- they had to be buried. But as each day passed, it was becoming harder and harder for Malcolm to keep his affections at bay.

"I can see your head runnin' at eighty-eight miles an hour, Lieutenant," Trip joked as they entered the turbolift. "What's on your mind?"

Malcolm licked his lips, trying to quickly come up with an adequate response. "Ah... well, I was thinking. If we rerouted the phase coils in the pistols and rifles by thirty-eight degrees precisely, we might be able to increase their overall energy efficiency by twenty percent." A half-truth. Malcolm had been thinking about doing that for a while. But that hadn't exactly been on his mind five seconds ago. "What do you think?"

Trip shrugged. "Computer, bridge." As the turbolift started to move, he pondered over Malcolm's proposition a moment. "It might work, but I'd have to run a few simulations. Ya know, so ya don't blow yourself up." He grinned and playfully nudged Malcolm's shoulder with his own. Malcolm was glad that, having chosen to be an armoury officer, he was trained to mask his emotions. Otherwise in that moment he might have done something he would regret.

Malcolm looked up at his friend and gave him a small smile. "You know me better than that."

"I know. I just love messin' with ya," Trip replied.

_I just love messin' with ya._

Malcolm quickly turned his gaze to the turbolift doors. "So what ancient American film do you have planned for us tonight?  _Star Wars: The Rise of_   _Skywalker?_ Or perhaps  _Superman_  again? Oh, wait, I know! It's  _Captain Proton versus the Mother of Chaotica?"_

"Wrong, wrong, and wrong again," Trip told him, chuckling. "You're just gonna have to wait and see. Say, wouldja like to sit next to me tonight? Ya always sit at the end of the back row and ya look pretty lonely, if ya don't mind my sayin'." When Malcolm didn't reply, Trip continued, "I'll share my popcorn."

Malcolm laughed softly. "Alright, you win. I'll sit next to you."

"Okay. Butter or no?"

"Come again?" The tactical officer looked up at Trip blankly.

"For the popcorn," Trip clarified. "Do you want any butter on it?"

"If you want butter, it's fine with me. I don't mind either way," Malcolm explained.  _I wonder if he... no. He's just my friend. And in any case, it would be unprofessional. Not that Trip's ever been known to be professional..._

"'Kay, no butter it is then." The turbolift doors finally opened and the two friends stepped out. "Alright, see ya tonight, Mal." Trip put a hand on Malcolm's shoulder and let it rest there for a brief second before moving away to deliver his report.

Malcolm tried to ignore his growing apprehension as the hours slowly ticked by.

* * *

Trip smiled upon spotting Malcolm. He moved over to greet the Brit and at the same time tried very hard not to spill his nearly overflowing bowl of popcorn. "Hey Mal!"

Malcolm smiled up at him. "Hello, Commander." He didn't know which smelled better- the popcorn or Trip. He observed that the engineer had changed out of his uniform, now wearing jeans and a red T-shirt. It hung somewhat loosely around his tall frame, partially exposing a little bit of his chest.

Malcolm had changed his own clothes as well, but being more reserved than Trip went for jeans and a black long-sleeve. The blonde Southerner could afford to flirt with the ladies and look sexy. Malcolm on the other hand didn't have that luxury. If he was to do his job right, he couldn't let those things get in the way.

Trip briskly lead him to their seats and plopped down in his chair, spilling some of the precious white kernels in the process. Malcolm sat down after a moment of hesitation and forced himself to relax, leaning back in his chair cautiously.

He could do this. He was a Reed.

Without warning, the room darkened, the soft hum of the ship's power cells shutting off with the lights. "What the- what's goin' on?!" Trip fumbled around in the darkness for something, accidentally elbowing Malcolm in the process.

"Oof!"

"Sorry! Lookin' for my penlight," Trip explained. After a moment, a bright light flashed, nearly blinding Malcolm. He scrunched his eyes closed for a few seconds, then opened them, blinking. Trip now had his penlight in hand and was playing the bright beam across the room. "Where is everyone?"

The room was now empty, except for the two of them. "I don't know," Malcolm murmured. Trip knelt down and pressed the side of his head to the floor, much to Malcolm's confusion. "What are you doing?" Trip shushed him. After a moment the Southerner raised his head.

"Sounds like the warp drive's offline," Trip said. He looked over at the mess hall window. "Holy sh... where the hell are the stars?!"

Malcolm whipped his head up to look out the window. There wasn't a single star in sight. "We need to get to the bridge." Trip nodded in agreement, heading for the mess hall doors. They remained closed.

"Damn. The doors ain't workin'," Trip muttered. He tried the emergency override unsuccessfully. "Power must be down on the whole ship."

Malcolm moved over to a wall, feeling around carefully. "I think I might be able to access one of the Jefferies tubes through a panel in this wall, if I'm remembering the ship's schematics correctly." His fingers found the edge of the panel and he pulled it off. Malcolm crouched down to get a better view. After a moment, he turned and looked back at Trip. "Commander... I don't suppose you have a scanner handy?"

"Nope," Trip replied as he shuffled over to the Lieutenant's side. "Why?" Malcolm tipped his head towards the Jefferies tube.

"See for yourself." Trip turned to look. The inside of the Jefferies tube was completely distorted, the metal twisted and stretched thin. It was all blanketed by an ominous green glow whose source couldn't be identified. "Something tells me we don't want to take that route," Malcolm continued.

_"Ensign Sato to the bridge."_

Trip looked up at the comm, frowning. He moved to it and answered. "Hoshi? That you?"

 _"Yeah,"_  Hoshi responded, her voice tinged with nervousness. _"Something's up with the comms- I've been trying to contact the bridge, but for some reason I end up comming all the other decks._ Please _tell me you're on the bridge, Commander."_

"'Fraid not," Trip told her. Hoshi let out a curse. "Where are you?" Trip asked.

 _"Well, one second I was in the mess hall, waiting for the movie to start,"_  Hoshi explained.  _"Next thing I know, Phlox and I are in Cargo Bay Two. Nobody else is here and the doors... well, the doors aren't even responding. And the lights are off, so we can't see anything! But we're okay. Just a bit rattled. Where are you?"_

"Commander Tucker and I are still here in the mess," Malcolm replied. "There isn't anyone else here."

"'Cept maybe Frankenstein's monster," Trip joked. Hoshi nor Malcolm were amused.

"This is  _serious_ , Commander," Malcolm retorted. "Hoshi, see if you can get access to one of the Jefferies tubes from where you are. But be careful. The one here in the mess is... well, we don't know what the hell is happening. It's like the space inside is being distorted by... something. Most likely a spatial anomaly of some kind."

_"Understood, sir. And you guys be careful too, okay?"_

"Don't worry, we will," Trip said. He lowered his hand from the comm and turned to Malcolm. "If we can pry the mess doors open, we might be able to reach the turbolifts."

"What good will that do?" Malcolm questioned. "The only system we know is online is the comm- and it's malfunctioning. I know what you're thinking. We  _could_  get to the bridge by climbing up the turbolift shaft. But we don't know if those systems are operational. I don't know about you, but I'm not all too keen on being crushed-"

"I get the point, Malcolm," Trip interrupted. "But do ya have any better ideas? And anyway, I don't plan on us goin' to the bridge."

"Then where  _are_  we going?"

"Engineerin'. Maybe we can restore power to the ship from there."

Malcolm let out a skeptical huff and crossed his arms. "Assuming we don't blow ourselves up first."

"Have a li'l faith, Mal," Trip told him, patting the tactical officer's shoulder reassuringly. "Remember what I toldja- think happy endin's." Malcolm's eyes flicked upwards to look at the engineer. There wasn't an ounce of fear or doubt on Trip's face- only confidence.  _Remember what I toldja- think happy endin's._

"Alright," Malcolm amended. "Let's see if we can get those doors open."

* * *

"This was not how I expected our evenin' to turn out," Trip commented as they slowly but surely climbed down the ladder.

Malcolm looked up at Trip for a moment. "Me neither. Then again, maybe it's a good thing."

"Yeah, how so?"

"Well, for instance, whatever film you decided you were going to put on probably wouldn't have had enough explosions," Malcolm told him. 

Trip just laughed.

Malcolm looked up at the engineer again. "How much farther until we reach Engineering?"

"Not sure," Trip told him. After a moment, he continued, "I hope everyone else is okay."

"Me too," Malcolm agreed. "I wonder what transported Hoshi and Doctor Phlox to Cargo Bay Two?"

"Probably the same thing that made everyone else disappear." Trip stopped climbing to wipe the sweat off one of his palms. "Ya know, this whole thing sorta makes me think of a horror film."

"Of course it does," Malcolm quipped, debating whether he should be amused or annoyed. How was it that even in the worst of situations, Trip could somehow make him want to laugh? Malcolm didn't speak again until his feet hit the top of an inert turbolift. "We've run into a bit of an obstacle," he called up to the engineer. Trip stepped down off the ladder next to the Brit. He pointed the flashlight towards the wall. The number was slightly faded, but still clear and distinct.

"We've still got one more deck to go." Without another word, the engineer opened the emergency access hatch to the turbolift. He pointed the penlight inside and frowned. "Looks like we'll hafta take a detour."

"Why, what is it?" Malcolm crouched beside Trip and looked down through the hatch. The inside of the turbolift was mangled and stretched beyond recognition. It had the same glow as the Jefferies tube did, only much brighter. And Malcolm could swear he felt heat coming from inside.

Without so much as a warning an energy wave pulsed out of the turbolift, sending Trip and Malcolm tumbling across the top of the turbolift. "Oof!" Malcolm hit his head hard on the wall. His vision spun and his mind suddenly went foggy. "Trip...?"

"Mal?" Malcolm felt Trip place his hands on his cheeks. The engineer titled Malcolm's head up so he could see his face better. "Mal, are ya okay? Hey, stay with me! That's an order."

Malcolm tried to nod, but that only made the dizziness worse. "I... don't think those anomalies don't like us very much..." Trip let out a half-hearted laugh as he helped the Brit up.

"C'mon you. Let's see if we can find another route."

"Alright," Malcolm replied. For a moment, he could swear he could hear whispering. But it was gone now. Perhaps he was just hearing things.

Perhaps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why do I get so many ideas? *sighs* Anyway, hope you all liked this. Next chapter will hopefully be coming soon (along with yet ANOTHER story).


	2. Chapter 2

"I hope Crewman Dakaar doesn't ever find out we broke in his quarters," Trip told Malcolm, pocketing a scanner. "He'll probably murder the both of us in our sleep."

"I wish we could get down to the armoury," Malcolm muttered as he opened up a nearby cabinet. "Then we'd have at least some form of protection."

"Protection? What'ya think phase pistols are gonna do to a couple'a spatial anomalies?"

"We don't know  _what_  is causing these anomalies," Malcolm retorted, closing the cabinet. He stood up and turned to face the engineer. "It  _could_  be a natural phenomena or it could be an attack from an alien species. I'd rather not take any chances."

"Mal, if it was an alien race that wanted to destroy us," Trip said, a small grin of amusement on his face, "dontcha think they'd have gotten it over and done with by now?"

"You think this is funny?"

"No, I think it's cute." Trip flushed with embarrassment and stuttered, "W-what I meant to say was..."

Malcolm didn't know what to think. Did Trip just call  _him_  cute? Did he... No, it had to have been a slip of the tongue. The tactical officer wasn't overly surprised, in any case. When in a stressful situation people often say things they don't mean. "Commander, shouldn't we see if we can get to Engineering now?"

Trip immediately jumped on that lifeline. "Yeah! You-you're right, we should. Unless ya wanna break into somebody else's quarters for another scanner?"

"Trip, something tells me that the clock is ticking," Malcolm told him. "I really think we should get moving."

"'Kay, figured I'd ask." It took a bit to get the doors to Crewman Dakaar's quarters shut again, but within a few moments, the two Starfleet officers were well on their way. Malcolm halted partways down the corridor after a moment, his expression pensive. Trip stopped and moved towards the Lieutenant, frowning. "Somethin' wrong, Lieutenant?"

"I was just thinking, Commander," Malcolm replied vaguely.

"'Bout what?"

Malcolm looked up at the engineer, a disconcerted look on his face. "How do we know Engineering isn't being affected by the spatial anomalies? For all we know... we could be walking to our deaths."

"And if we don't get  _Enterprise_  outta this area of space," Trip countered, "we'll probably die anyway. And to be honest with ya, I'd much rather die tryin' to save the ship than anythin' else." He put a hand on Malcolm's upper arm, just below the shoulder, and squeezed gently. "It's gonna work out, Malcolm."

"You don't  _know_  that."

"You're right. I don't. But I'd like to think it would." Trip gave his friend a soft smile. "Otherwise I won't get to share that popcorn I promised ya."

Malcolm couldn't help himself and let a small laugh slip. "Commander Charles Tucker, when will I  _ever_  figure you out?" Trip could only offer a shrug and a sheepish grin. Malcolm realised Trip's hand was still touching his arm. The Brit was struck by a violent onslaught of emotions, which he barely managed to bury before they could reach the surface.

"Mal, ya okay?" Trip asked, his eyes searching.

"Er, yes," Malcolm replied, pulling himself away from the Southerner's grasp. "Shall we?" Trip nodded, handing the tactical officer a flashlight he had found in Dakaar's quarters. Then without another word, Trip moved on ahead. Malcolm fell into step behind, cursing silently at himself.

As they walked down the chilly, dark corridors, Malcolm couldn't help but feel as if they were being watched. He told himself it was his imagination, that it was just his nerves, when he heard it. It was barely audible, but he heard it. A faint whispering. The Brit couldn't make out what they were saying, but it seemed as if the whispers were everywhere. He could not discern their source and that only put him on edge even more.

Finally he couldn't take it anymore. "Commander, do you hear something?"

"Nope," Trip replied, stopping and turning to face the smaller man. "Why?"

Malcolm shrugged, offering a smile that wasn't quite genuine. "No reason. It's probably just my mind playing tricks on me."

Trip frowned, then offered up a grin. "Toldja this is like some horror movie."

"Oh, shut up, you," Malcolm retorted, smirking in amusement. But behind the mask his apprehension was still there, nagging him ominously. "I suppose now you're going to suggest that the next film for movie night should be  _Aliens_  or something."

Trip rolled his eyes. "Very funny, Lieutenant." As they continued their journey through the shadowy, empty corridors, Malcolm could only wonder if they were going to get out of this one in one piece or if their luck was already spent.

Only time would tell.

* * *

"Ya hear that?!" Trip whipped his head to look down a corridor, at the same time pointing his penlight in that direction.

"Yes, I heard it," Malcolm replied, immediately on the defensive. Something was off. The hairs on the back of his neck raised. Whatever was out there, the tactical officer was sure it wasn't a fellow crewman. And that noise certainly wasn't the sound of the ship settling.

"Hello?" Trip called through the darkness.

Malcolm grabbed the engineer's wrist like a vice and gave him a seething glare. "Are you crazy?" The Brit demanded, trying to keep his voice low. "We don't know what might be lurking down here!"

"What if it's one of the crew?" Trip shot back, glaring right back at Malcolm. "They could be hurt! Are we supposed to just get back on course and move along, like we didn't hear nothin'?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," Malcolm retorted. "This doesn't feel _right._  For the past few hours, I've felt as if we're being watched. And something's telling me that whatever we just heard... Commander, I really think we ought to take a different route." When Trip's expression didn't change, Malcolm added,  _"Please,_  Trip." At the same time, he loosened his hold on the Southerner's wrist.

Trip closed his eyes and sighed. After a moment, he opened them again and looked at his friend with what could only be described as... disappointment. Malcolm felt his heart sink. "No," Trip replied, his voice tinged with anger. "No. It could'a been Cap'n Archer. Or Travis. Or Lieutenant Hess! I'm sorry, Mal, but I ain't leavin' anyone behind." Without another word, he turned on his heel and hurried down the corridor.

"Trip!" Malcolm raced after him. After a moment, Trip stopped abruptly and held out an arm to halt his friend's pursuit. Malcolm looked up at Trip and saw his eyes were glued to something. The Brit turned his head to see what it was. And Malcolm really wished he hadn't.

On the floor, slumped against the bloodstained wall was a corpse. Or rather, what was left of it. The lower half was completely missing, and what was left of the top was mangled beyond recognition. Malcolm looked away, sickened to the point where he was ready to rid his stomach of the dinner he had eaten only a few hours ago.

"Are ya seein'... what  _I'm_  seein'?" Trip asked softly.

"Unfortunately... yes."

Trip silently moved towards the corpse, pulling out his scanner at the same time. He knelt down beside the body, staring at the scanner as it relayed its readings. "Accordin' to the scanner, this was Ensign Myers." The Southerner looked up at Malcolm, a deep sadness in his eyes. "She was... she couldn't have been more than twenty-five."

"I knew her," Malcolm murmured. "She was a fine officer."

"She was a hell of a lot more than that," Trip retorted. He looked back down at the scanner. A puzzled expression came over his face. "That's odd."

"What is?"

"I'm gettin' readin's of DNA from somethin' else," Trip explained. "Probably whatever attacked her. And accordin' to these scans..." He looked back up at Malcolm. "The DNA is  _mercury-based."_

"That's... impossible." Malcolm moved to kneel down beside Trip. "There's no way any lifeform could be  _mercury-based._  Are you sure the scanner is properly calibrated?"

"Lieutenant, I'm an  _engineer,"_  Trip growled. "Of course it's properly calibrated."

"Sir..." Malcolm had whipped his head around, having heard something. He pointed his flashlight that way, though it wasn't really necessary, as the scanner illuminated their visitor's face enough for them to see her. "Sub-commander?" Trip shifted about and saw T'Pol. A phase pistol was in one hand and her scanner in the other.

"Lieutenant. Commander," T'Pol acknowledged. Her dark eyes landed on Myer's corpse. "What happened?"

"We don't know," Malcolm told her. "We found her like this. She was attacked by what Commander Tucker believes is a mercury-based lifeform. I told him it was impossible-"

"He is correct," T'Pol interrupted. "I encountered such a creature on my way to Engineering. The stun setting had no effect, so I was forced to kill it."

"What'd it look like?" Trip asked.

There was something in T'Pol's eyes that left Malcolm feeling unsettled. She looked almost... disconcerted. If what she saw was enough to make her uneasy, then it made the Lieutenant feel down right terrified.

"If you had seen what I saw, Commander," T'Pol finally said, "you would most likely want to take up Vulcan meditation yourself."

"Damn," Trip muttered, standing up.

Malcolm moved with him. "What did it look like?"

T'Pol hesitated. "The upper half of the alien resembled that of a large insect. The closest example would be a beetle. The lower half... when I scanned the alien's remains, the lower half read as  _human."_

Trip remained expressionless for several seconds. Then he started to gag. He covered his mouth and stumbled to the side, throwing up the chicken tetrazzini he ate for dinner. Malcolm was immediately at his side, his hand resting lightly on the Southerner's back.

After a moment, when Trip had relieved his stomach, he muttered, "I ain't ever gonna feel the same 'bout  _Halo_  again."

"You and me both," Malcolm murmured. He looked back at T'Pol. "I don't suppose there's anything in the Vulcan database about this?"

T'Pol's gaze lowered a fraction. "There is. If I remember correctly, the Andorians were the first known race to encounter this phenomena. The Vulcans have had some encounters as well. We call it 'Zero Space.'"

"'Zero Space?'" Trip repeated, turning to face T'Pol. His face was still a bit pale from his sickness earlier.

"No ship that has entered Zero Space has ever returned," T'Pol explained. "This anomaly behaves very similarly to an unstable wormhole. It jumps to random locations without any warning. Its unpredictable movements are why it has never been documented on a star chart. And it was one of the many reasons the Vulcan High Command was hesitant to let humans begin traveling beyond the solar system."

"And now we're going to  _die_  here in this bloody hell-hole," Malcolm muttered. "I doubt it could get much worse than this."

"Don't say that, Mal," Trip retorted, looking at the smaller man. "We ain't dead yet."

"But we will be!" Malcolm snapped, turning to face the blonde. "T'Pol said it herself- any ship that enters Zero Space never returns! This time won't be any different!"

"You don't know that," T'Pol pointed out. "The Vulcans and Andorians have been able to retrieve some information about Zero Space by means of long range sensors. It is essentially super-condensed  _beta matter._ _If_  we can restore power to  _Enterprise_  we can vent plasma from the ship's relay system. According to past experiments with beta matter, it has a volatile reaction with warp plasma. It will disperse and we should be able to leave Zero Space, if we move quickly enough."

"But wouldn't such a reaction damage  _Enterprise?"_  Malcolm asked.

"Not if we polarise the hull plating," Trip replied. "I'm with T'Pol on this. It could be our only shot. We can't waste it."

Malcolm considered T'Pol's plan for a moment. Then he nodded. "Alright. I'm with you. But we have to do it right, because if we don't then we really are _dead._  This  _has_  to work."

"It will," Trip reassured. "I promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, that escalated quickly. Also, before I say anything else, I realise that in "Love is Overrated", Trip's flashback in chapter three would have taken place during season 3 of Star Trek: Enterprise. Since my series "End of the Line" is already considered AU, let's just say the whole Xindi thing happened a bit later, 'kay?
> 
> Also, the previous chapter was revised somewhat to correct a minor loophole and make the dialogue flow a bit smoother. I may have to do similar revisions for this chapter later, but in any case, I hope you enjoyed this.


End file.
